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mrs-weasley-reid · 1 year

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Doctor is In

bau!team x psychiatrist!reader

Summary: It was their turn to heed for echoes of your cries. Unweave every inch of your life to find their beloved psychiatrist. And whoever the unlucky b*stard who took you was, he was as good as dead.

Warning: abduction, use of y/n and l/n, curse word(s), stalking, pedophilia, erotomania

part 1 (Therapy Sessions)

Saturday, 12:21 AM

Time passed quickly when a whole pack of profilers searched every nook and cranny of your life. Not a blink of sleep, yet none of them needed a drop of caffeine to stay awake.

For you, they would stop breathing if it meant finding where you were. They would spend thousands of dollars to get all the needed equipment to find you. And even ignored other patrons that requested their assistance.

It wasn't irrationality. Your case was just personal. A taunt to the BAU team. How dare someone take away their psychiatrist? How dare someone take the only person who listened to their horrific stories with a kind smile? How dare someone take the only person they felt comfortable being vulnerable with?

Penelope's heels clacked on the linoleum floor, pushing the glass door open as she sped to the conference room. "I found something!" She announced as she gasped for air, handing the paper to JJ.

"What is it?" Hotch asked, nothing but a stoic manner radiating out of him.

JJ scanned through the document, lifting her gaze to meet the others. "Y/N is not Y/N." She stated, processing the information in her head.

"What do you mean?" Derek knitted his brows, straightening up on his seat.

"Dr. Y/N L/N used to be Odette Solace. She changed her name when she was fifteen years old." Penelope elaborated, picking up the remote.

"Her name sounds like a celebrity. Why would she want to change that? At the age of fifteen too?" Emily's mouth fell slightly open, and her brows locked in confusion. She wasn't lying at all. And she was one to possess different names during her days at Interpol.

Penelope hummed, pressing the button of the remote. Images of police reports appeared on the screen. "At first, I had a hard time digging into our angel dove, Y/N's past, because it came out blank as in plain white canvas type of blank. But then I thought, let's look more into her parents. That's when I realized how Y/N and her parents have different last names. And then my powers did wonders, speed like the Flash, ka-chow! Y/N had been stalked by this creepy neighbor across the street since she was four. And hear this, one time, her parents were out late, so a babysitter was hired. This dude claimed that Mr. and Mrs. Solace asked him to fix their sink to watch little Y/N playing in the living room. Happened a lot of times that her parents decided to move to a different house five blocks away. And guess what?"

"The neighbor moved to a house in the street?" JJ continued more of a statement than a question, earning a nod from Penelope.

"Because of that, Y/N was not allowed to go out, and she always wore a veil to cover her face if she really had to. The stalking stopped for a few years after the owner of the house this dude was renting kicked him out because they heard about his creepy secrets from Y/N's parents. So, all was well. Y/N got to go outside got to play with her friends. She even started going to school." Penelope triggered the screen to flash younger pictures of you.

Everyone loosened up, looking at your little smiles. A momentary relaxation amid their anxieties regarding your safety.

The first photo was of you in a fairy costume. Wings and wand and all. You carried a pumpkin bucket filled with sweets that shot up the smile on your face.

Spencer was particularly grinning at the image. He remembered how you always had a small bag of candies waiting for him every Halloween for him to pick up, whether he needed someone to talk to or not.

You even personalized it to his liking. Every candy inside the bag was taped on a small piece of paper with a nerdy joke or pun about the candy's brand.

The second photo was Emily and Derek's personal favorite. You wore a camouflage suit, two lines of black paint on each of your cheeks, and a paintball gun almost as big as you. Your face was scrunched in an attempt to look threatening, but you failed and looked constipated instead.

The team once had a horrible case where Emily and Derek disagreed. Hearing about it from Penelope, you asked both of them to visit your clinic without the other knowing.

They argued in your office but stopped when you handed each of them a paintball pistol and said, "Go on. Shoot each other. I'll be watching with more bullets if you need more."

The third image was you at the early age of fourteen. You were surrounded by four-year-old kids who latched onto you. It was the day you volunteered to help your mother, who worked in a daycare.

Hotch couldn't help but recall the day he had to bring Jack to your doorstep. The little boy was missing his mother and wouldn't talk to Hotch, which left him feeling hopeless until you crossed his mind. Maybe you would be able to encourage Jack to talk.

And just like he predicted, you were terrific with Jack. The boy was more open to his father after just one lunch date with you. Even if he didn't know the trick to mend his son's broken heart, as long as Jack could express his feelings to someone, Hotch was forever grateful to you.

Rossi wasn't impressed by your fourth photo. The fettuccine pasta you made from scratch looked more like angel hair pasta. But the caption that your mother typed clearly stated fettuccine. He made a note to teach you the difference between different kinds of pasta when they get you back.

And then there was the last photo that Penelope and JJ found hilarious. It was a yearbook photo of you. Your hair was a mess, and your braces sparkled from the flash.

Sometimes your hair still ends up that way, especially on rainy days. And they couldn't wait to see you again, alive and well, so they could tease you about it.

Sunday, 3:45 PM

You woke up from a throbbing pain in your temple. It has been a week since you got the impact wound on your head, and it still was excruciatingly painful. You needed to see a doctor as soon as possible.

And you would've walked straight into one if you could only get out of the knot that bound your limbs together.

It was dim where you were. The light that flickered as your only source of hope.

Somehow, you knew some people searching for you. And you wanted to stay alive for them as long as you could.

"Hello?! Hey!" You called out, looking around the dark room. "Please just let me out! Please!" You begged, your voice hoarse from the long week of screaming at the walls.

The door swung open, welcoming light that came from outside. You squinted your eyes, blinded by the sudden brightness.

You've heard the same door open and close for a week, and you had a great estimation of what it was made of. Metal.

A man threw a tray of food on the table in the corner of the room. He wasn't evil to deprive you of water, either. So why was he doing this to you?

You weren't a federal agent like your favorite patients. You didn't catch any serial killers. You didn't send anyone to jail. And for years, you have been a psychiatrist and never received a complaint. All your patients seem to feel better, as far as you know.

He glowered over you, "Come and eat, Odette. You don't want the food to get cold." He said in a loving voice.

"Why do you call me that? My name's Y/N. Why do you keep calling me Odette—"

A loud bang almost bled your eardrums. You thought he shot you. You shakily opened your eyes again, figuring out which part of your body had been shot.

But you weren't. He smacked the tray so loud it sounded like a gunshot. Relief spread all over your chest, and tears raged down your face.

"No, no, no, no..." His face softened, kneeling in front of you. "Don't cry. Please, don't cry." He cooed, wiping your tears.

The touch of his hand on your skin only made your tears flow like a mad river. You were disgusted by the way he acted like a lover. You had no lover.

You had no other choice. You held his hand. "Please... just let me go. I won't tell anyone. Just let me go." You sobbed.

Monday, 6:42 AM

"Sir, Mr. and Mrs. Solace is waiting for you." An agent announced in the conference room after interrupting them with a knock.

With her communication liaison background, JJ took the initiative to meet your parents. She walked down the small flight of stairs and was met with a worried couple.

"Hi, my name is Agent Jennifer Jaraeu. I'm the one who called you yesterday." She greeted kindly, flashing them a soft smile.

Your mother stole JJ's hand, clutching it for dear life, your dear life. "Please save my daughter. She's a very, very good daughter. She's always caring." Her tears fell in an instant.

JJ's heart shattered into pieces. You were loved, for Pete's sake! How dare the unsub take you? She calmed herself down before placing a hand atop your mother's. "We're doing everything we can to find her. She's a friend of mine, of all of us. We're not going to stop until we find her."

"Thank you—" Your father said in a broken voice, breaking into sobs. He was worst than your mother. He may have put on a brave face at first, but he was a mess as he shed massive tears for his only daughter.

JJ led them up to the conference room, introducing the team, your friends, hoping it would lessen your parents' worries.

"Ma'am—" Rossi was cut off by your mother.

"Lara, Agent Rossi. You can call me Lara." She sniffed.

Rossi offered her a small smile, "Then you may call me David." He waited for her nod before continuing. "We found out that Y/N changed her name when she was fifteen?"

Your father's eyes widened. No one was supposed to know that. It was a secret your parents swore to bring with them to their graves. "How did you know about that?" He defensively asked.

"We don't mean to offend you, Mr. Solace, but we needed to know everything about Y/N's life to figure out why she was abducted." Emily leveled, making sure her words did not alarm your parents.

"She doesn't know," Your mother cried, feeling your father wrap his arms around her to make her feel safe. She exchanged looks with your father, conversing through their eyes.

"She doesn't know," Your father repeated. "Y/N doesn't know her name used to be different." He explained vaguely. And when the whole team remained quiet, he knew they needed more than that. So he sighed, "That bastard took our daughter on her fifteenth birthday. It was a whole car chase that led to an accident. Y/N was hurt badly and had a head injury. She had difficulty remembering us because of trauma, so we changed her name and let her live a life free from that asshole's memory. To this day, Y/N has no idea. My wife and I made sure no one would ever know. We even hid the files from the government as best we could. Please, we don't want our daughter to remember. She already had a hard time." He rambled, holding your mother close as he fought the threatening tears to fall again.

Tuesday, 5:55 PM

The pain you were feeling has only gotten worse. But the worse thing of all was your dreams.

The man who abducted you was in those dreams. He was a lot younger, and so were you.

One of the dreams showed your four-year-old self running around a living room you weren't familiar with. And there was the man, smiling and rattling a toy in front of you. He brushed your hair, held your hands, and even playfully asked you to kiss him.

You felt nauseous. Your stomach hurled at the vivid dream. But something in your mind was telling you it wasn't. You gagged at the thought that it was real.

And tears began to rain on your lap. You stared at the door, "Someone, please, get me out of here."

Wednesday, 10:01 AM

"Garcia, search for a job with much free time. The unsub would've used those times to stalk Y/N. Maybe he's a janitor somewhere." Spencer stood behind Penelope, watching as she did her magic with her sets of keys.

One result popped up. "Oh, my god." Penelope blurted. Her eyes were filled with terror.

Spencer's brows furrowed, "What? What did you find?" He leaned closer to the screen, squinting his eyes.

"I know that address really well. That's—"

"That's Y/N's clinic." Spencer continued, stumbling his way out of Penelope's bat cave.

Penelope knew she couldn't catch up to him, so instead, she dialed Derek's number.

"'Sup baby girl, what you got for us?" He greeted her, putting her on speaker.

"The unsub. He's working for Y/N's clinic as a janitor. He's been under our noses this entire time. And–and it says in the schedule, he should be working." Penelope stammered, panicking despite the great news.

All of them shared a look as Spencer flew inside the room. Hotch gave Rossi a nod, "Alright, let's head there now." He turned to JJ. "If it's okay with you, JJ. Can you stay with Y/N's parents?"

JJ glanced at your parents, who sat in the kitchenette area in the bullpen. "I'm alright. I'll keep an eye on them. Go get our psychiatrist back. I have so many rants for her." She smiled, earning a stern but soft nod from Hotch.

It was as if they were all thrown off their seats when they moved. Derek paused, focusing on his phone. "Thanks, baby girl. We're gonna go get mama bird." He hung up the phone and followed the others.

The drive to your clinic was like flying from Quantico to New York in under fifty minutes. They were at the doorstep of the building faster than they usually go.

"I'm Agent Hotchner. We're a friend of Dr. L/N. We just wanted to know if you've recently hired this man." Hotch handed a photo of the unsub to Dr. Basset.

His eyes widened, "No, it's not recent. We've had him working for us for two years. He even stays in the spare room in the basement. He was old, so I thought it was harmless." He explained, worry creeping under his skin. He had never expected anyone to hurt his fellow doctors.

"And where's the basement?" Emily followed, nodding when Dr. Basset gave them the directions.

Meanwhile, Spencer, Derek, and Rossi made their rounds into every maintenance closet in the clinic.

"Clear," Spencer stated, stepping out of the third closet they checked. And when he turned his gaze towards Derek, he found the unsub behind him, coming out of a room. "Hey!"

The unsub's eyes blew wide, discarding his cleaning equipment and running on reflex.

Derek quickly followed in his footsteps, tackling him with a heavy body. "Don't move! Stay down!" He hissed, pinning the man down.

Rossi and Spencer followed suit, gun pointed to the man that made your entire life a living nightmare, aware or not. "Where's Y/N?!" Rossi grilled.

The unsub's deranged laughter echoed in the clinic halls, sure to leave nightmares in everyone that heard him. "I don't know a Y/N. You must be mistaken." He struggled out.

"Where's Odette?" Spencer interrogated, urging the unsub to halt his maniacal laughter.

"My sweet, sweet Odette... She was born to be my wife..." The unsub seemed to be in a trance of what he thought your lives together would be.

Hotch and Emily reached the basement, checking every corner, hoping you would be there. And then, there was a door made out of steel.

Emily softly tapped on the door, pressing an ear against it. "Y/N? Y/N, are you there?"

Your ears rang at the sound of her voice. You knew Emily's voice like the back of your palm. You attempted to pry your eyes open, but they were too heavy.

"Y/N?" Hotch knocked thrice on the piece of metal. "This is Hotch. We're here to take you home."

A strangled sob came out of you. Finally. "Hotch..." You called out in a raspy voice, feeling all the pain surge in your body.

It was faint, but they heard you loud and clear. Emily and Hotch exchanged nods before Hotch turned to the door. "I'm going to kick the door. Make sure you're away from it, okay?" He announced.

Light filtered in like a spotlight directly on you. One side of your face was stained with blood, pale skin, and dry lips that turned gray.

Hotch immediately removed his jacket and wrapped it around you while Emily untied your limbs.

And a hoarse giggle shook you, "I knew you'd find me." You whispered, slowly drifting off. "I knew you all were too attached to me to find a different psychiatrist." One last chuckle, and you were out.

Thursday, 1:23 PM

You were awakened by the annoying beeping on your side. Luckily, the pain didn't seem to factor in your consciousness returning.

You slowly opened your eyes, subconsciously squeezing the hand that held yours.

"Y/N! Oh, my, god! My baby." Your mother sobbed, squeezing your hand tighter. Your father went out to call for a nurse.

You gathered a smile as you adjusted your vision under the bright fluorescent lights. "Hey, mom." You rasped, feeling a lot better than the past week.

You felt her kissing your knuckles, catching her silent sobs. "I was so worried about you... I thought staying away from you would've kept you safe." She was apologizing, and she didn't need to say a word. Her hold on your hand was enough sign that she felt awful for letting you out of her sight.

"So... they weren't dreams, were they? He really has been on my tail this whole time?" Your mother stopped sniffing, hesitating. "Please be honest. I'm not mad. I just want to know who I am."

"Oh, sweetheart," She tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. "You are you." She started, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Your father and I may have changed your name, but you are the same daughter we were blessed with. He was trying to take our baby. We just wanted to keep you safe."

You nodded, squeezing her hand back. She stayed by your side the entire day, afraid that someone else would retake you if she left you even for just one second. Until you insisted that she and your father go home and get some rest.

An hour later, came piling in a pack of profilers. They were like children at the edge of your bed.

Penelope had a massive basket for you. She said you must take all of them because they keep you hydrated.

Spencer carried his own gift for you. A book. One that you repeatedly mentioned to him but never seemed to find the time to read. He handed it to you, tucking his long curly hair behind his ears. "I annotated it, so it's easier for you to read." He gave you a tight-lipped smile.

"How are you feeling?" JJ asked, sitting beside you.

You smiled, "Better." You announced.

A wave of relief washed over them. You found it adorable. How much they loved you. How much they depended on you in a way that would disrupt a doctor-patient relationship. But you didn't care. They will always be your favorite patients.

"Jack made this for you," Hotch giddily said, giving you a customized card.

You flipped it open and immediately laughed, making you wince as your head throbbed. Your gaze met Hotch's, "You have yet to learn from Jack, Hotch." You said, showing him the inside of the card.

The others peeked behind Hotch as he scanned the contents of the card.

There was a drawing of a woman, a stick figure, with flowers in her hands. But that wasn't what made you laugh. It was Jack's message below it.

Dear, Y/N

I hope you feel better soon so we can bake cookies again!

Love, Agent Jack

P. S. Dad drew you, which was terrible, so I added flowers to make it look better.

The others also erupted in laughter while Hotch grew into a red tomato. He passed you the card back, unable to meet your eyes.

"Wanna talk about how your son embarrassed you in front of your colleagues? I can help you bounce back from the trauma." You cooed, a teasing grin on your lips. "The doctor is in."

#bau x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #criminalminds #bau team #ssa jennifer #ssa spencer reid #ssa emily prentiss #ssa aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #dr spencer reid #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #emilyprentiss #david rossi #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner

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starlightshadowsworld · 8 months

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I love Percy and Annabeth but they should not have been in Heroes of Olympus.

Because they overshadow everyone else.

People even say they skipped other characters povs just to read there's.

I love them but I think they shouldn't have been as prominently apart of the story.

Because yeah I love them but I've had 5 books of these guys, I'd really like to know the rest of the seven.

Hell Jason's birthday is the day they fall into Tartarus soo...tell me they aren't overshadowed..

Jason's our main character and he constantly gets pushed aside and is not written well and constantly compared to as being Percy's lesser version.

Which isn't fair.

And he's not given a chance to change that.

He's not allowed to exist outside of Percy because of course he isn't.

Percy's right there.

Also give them a break.

They just fought a war.

Personally would love if the lost hero started with a snap shot of the battle of Manhatten and zoomed out to the Roman part of the fight.

Jason leading the charge and just "Yeah.. That's me, your probably wondering how I got here."

And takes us all the way back to a mysterious woman giving Jason up and the wolves coming for him.

With us learning from kid Thalia demanding to know where Jason is that this Jason is her Jason.

Jason Grace.

We see the wolf house we watch Jason try to survive and absolutely break our hearts hearing someone so young think he's so alone and no one loves him.

Lupa becoming more motherly to him but that fear Jason has always remains that she will turn on him one day.

Jason wandering the streets to Camp Jupiter.

Jason's situation bring the reverse of Percy's.

Being out casted immediately and than put on a pedestal once he's claimed.

Jason immediately hating it.

Jason being pushed into this good soilder narrative but he doesn't fit it at all.

His upbringing has left him wild, less bothered with proper fighting techniques and more on survival.

He fights to kill.

He fights to live.

And no one else gets that.

Except one camper, Octavian, who's older than Jason abd the Augur.

Everyone after reading the Pjo series seeing Octavian...I got my eye on you Mr.

Who insults the elders and is the first to get Jason to laugh.

And encourages Jason to stand up for what he believes in.

Giving Jason the courage to deny his place in the 1st cohort and join the 5th.

This

Pisses everyone off.

Mostly the 1st.

Who are downright offended because you don't turn down the first cohort.

And Jason's like, but I just did.

The 5th have no idea what to make of Jason but in time they become friendly.

Dakota becoming a friend to him.

Jason knows this because he shares his kool aid with him sometimes.

He does get in trouble for squaring off with and scaring off some bullies of the upper cohorts.

Because Jason hates bullies and he recognises the kid, Frank being picked on.

Apparently they stole his stick and while Jason has no idea it's importance, it made Frank sad soo he goes after them.

Ends up on probatio and friends with Frank.

Who admires Jason's bravery and wishes he could be too.

So the rest of the leigion kinda miffed some 5th upstart is embarrassing them.

And so when the next quest is given its to him.

Quests are different here to Camp Half-blood.

Since they don't have a true oracle, specifics are never mentioned.

Leaving the leigion to give the prophecy to whoever they want.

And they want to knock Jason down a few pegs and so they send him.

Jason picking Frank and Dakota.

Neither of the two are hopeful because the day a 5th is sent on a quest is the day their funeral is held.

Not the case though and they do in fact succeed and do it well.

Frank even opening up about his stick and showing that he is as brave and courageous as he wants to be.

It's through that act of bravery Frank is claimed as a son of Mars.

And though he's not exactly sure he should be one, Jason and Dakota both tell him it suites him well.

They both even do the "all hail Frank Zhang, Son of Mars" speech.

Which makes him smile.

On the way back though they do find Reyna.

Jason gets the short straw and has to do the oh the Roman God's are real but she knows and that she's a daughter of Bellona.

And they all head back to camp together.

And while Reyna has her guard up she does genuinely seem to enjoy her company with the others.

She's also the only other person to truly understand how Jason fights and his instinct to survive.

Though she doesn't share why.

Octavian greets them, proud and Reyna is on probatio until they can see what cohort she fits into.

Though she remarks after seeing the egos of the 1st that the 5th might be better afterall.

Celebrations are held and Jason wonders if the quest is really over.

Also all or us wondering if Octavian was genuine about what he said to Jason to follow his dreams.

Or if he did it to take Jason's place in the 1st.

Can't tell me after Luke anyone of you guys wouldn't be mad suss of an older blonde boy befriending Jason.

Fool me once.

Shame on you.

Fool me twice...

Damn...

Also reading the series prior and than this means everyone agrees with Jason.

Like we saw Percy fight for his life over and over and are just like... Oh you bitches gonna have a rude awakening when you face real monsters 💅🏽.

I have no idea what the quest would be but I'd want them to all line up to the next big prophecy.

Instead of it coming out of nowhere.

Hazel does come around but later on because of the doors and with her so does Nico.

#jason grace #heroes of olympus #This was supposed to be short smh #Dakota pjo #reyna avila ramirez arellano #octavian pjo #frank zhang #The lost hero #percy jackson #annabeth chase

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

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Grow Forever, Never Yield (Aemond x Reader)

This was actually the easiest one to write, I loved writing this character and wanted to write a slightly enemies to lovers type of thing, this was requested by @aegvn I hope this is what you imagined and you enjoy it as much as I did

“The prince has surpassed me in his sword fighting skills I am no longer a worthy opponent to him, I would like to invite another skilled warrior to court”

“Whom will that be Ser Criston?”

“The lady (y/n) Phoenix”

“Of firebend? They would never allow their own to join our court”

The house of Phoenix at the firebend land was amongst the last of the rebels and as allied themselves with the Dornish during the age of Aegon the conqueror, inevitably they came to a treaty of peace with the Targaryen king that allowed them somewhat freedom if they agreed to acknowledge Targaryens as the true kings, in retaliation they decided to make the words of their house be

“Grow forever, never yield”

The lady (y/n) was the second child of Nevan Phoenix, she was known for her skill at yielding a sword amongst all of 7 kingdoms, the girl was young, mayhaps a year or two Aemonds senior still she had established herself to be a legend and a name that could install fear to any knight with a mixture of the men wanting to meet this legend that came from the far lands of firebend.

“Who would be better at preparing a prince for any battle other than what they call “the strangers' daughter”?”

The house of Phoenix had been in battle when she was just at the age of 14, thankfully the girl seemed to scoff at death, (y/n) had come victorious and led her brothers' army better than any man would have, to gaze upon her stallion as she held her sword and waited to give the signal to charge was a sight only a few could witness,

“If you die, die with honor”

(Y/n) would often say to her soldiers, some even whispered that even though she got injured she kept on fighting, hence the nickname of her being a descendant of the God of death.

Otto leaned back in his chair, it would be a great opportunity to remind the Phoenix of their treaty, with Viserys getting weaker and Rhaenyras claim shaking if Aegon had Phoenix on his side then others would follow only out of fear of facing her in battle.

“I suppose sending a raven would not be so bad”

“I will arrange it, thank you, lord hand”

(Y/n) was already bored of kings landing, the place reeked of piss and the common folk is starving, she had opened the window of her carriage and she could already count dead bodies that lay on the streets.

“What is the purpose of dragons and glory if you cannot even take care of your land and people?”

“Unfortunately some kings do not see past their noses and tall castle walls”

Her father responded he was not pleased with the visit either, howbeit he had given up his seat as the lord of the land to his firstborn son Henley since Nevan had phrased it as

“I am too old to support my family, I shall pass the torch and legacy to a mind full of ideas and a heart full of zest for life”

Henley was a noble and wise young man, peaceful and certainly diplomatic, he could talk his way out of anything before his opponent could even comprehend what had happened.

(y/n) was close to her dear brother and was immensely proud of the man he had grown to be, Henley’s first decision was to announce (y/n) as the First Lady commander of the knights, she was the reason he was alive.

“Why did we even agree to this? I do not wish to train a spoiled brat of a prince”

“Aemond Targaryen is a prince and mounts a very large dragon, as much as we are rebels at heart we must pick our battles wisely”

Her father advised her making her blow bubbles out of boredom mixed with denial of his words standing true, they could have easily found a way to deny the invite, she was certain that her brother hid behind this act of kindness, to keep their end of the bargain and appear as a pacifist leader to avoid conflict.

Before (y/n) could utter another smart remark and ridicule the name “Targaryen” even further she was interrupted by the carriage coming to a halt, she took a deep breath as a way to steal time and gather herself along with restraining her attitude.

“Let’s get this over with”

She spoke in a gritted tone before she got off their carriage to stand next to her father, before she was standing at the queen and lord hand, along with a young girl and boy, the queen did her best to hide her surprise at the young lady’s appearance, however (y/n) picked up at the widen eyes and clench of the fists which only made her smirk.

“Queen Alicent, I must thank you for the invite to your court”

“Welcome to kings landing lord Phoenix, it is an honor to have you and your daughter here”

(Y/n) chose to stay silent, her demeanor was cold and stoic as she held her head high and her chest puffed out, she mirrored her father down to his core, a true warrior.

Her copper hair was pulled back to one thick braid making her scar that overtook almost the entire left side of her face even more intense and visible, it was quite ironic since Aemonds had lost his right eye whilst the lady was missing her left.

The scar she held was twice the size of Aemonds, whoever did it wanted to cause pain and even craved to disfigure her, Aemond thought that not only did that person fail but since the lady was standing and had created a legend out of her name the person was unsuccessful, she was the most interesting person Aemond had ever seen, he never thought he would say a such thing but “she wears it well”

Her clothing was a dark dress but if you took a close look the detail of it was marvelous, you could even observe the drawing of a Phoenix at the hem of it, it was certainly eye-catching yet it embodies her character.

“Is this why you asked us to train the prince? You believed I would be best because of our similar injury?”

(Y/n) was visibly offended by this coincidence, it was truly not Ser Coles's intention nor reasoning behind his choice of a teacher, it all came down to the tales of her talent that he had heard amongst other soldiers.

(Y/n) spoke in a calm tone yet her voice was stern and demanding, she stared at Aemonds soul with fire in her eyes, Aemond was also taken back by the lady, it was the first time he had seen someone as young as him that has suffered the same fate as him.

“No, my lady, we do not wish to offend you, we merely admire your accomplishments”

Ser Criston took a step forward as he was the one responsible for (y/n)s arrival to court, silence overtook the group as Nevan was also skeptical now that he was present, he also did not want to intervene since it might make the matters worse knowing his daughters' temper stops at nothing when she feels disrespected or threatened.

“We have heard tales of you but you are beyond our expectations, my lady, we just wish for our prince to learn from the best”

“Very well, I think we had enough pleasantries, we are not here to sweet talk one another, I shall rest for the rest of the day, I will see the prince on the morrow at your training yard, I do not want to be disturbed by anyone unless it is my father until then, whom will escort us to our chambers?”

(Y/n) had whipped the prince to shape, she was resilient, cunning, and tireless, Aemonds entire body ached so bad that he had to sit in a bath of scorching water just to ease his muscles for at least an hour.

(Y/n) had once barged in and laughed at him, she ridiculed him with her words as Aemonds face showed no emotion as she spoke, well mostly as she laughed at him from her high horse “Was she also in pain? Probably too stubborn to admit that the practice also took a toll on her” he thought as he watched her go back and forth in front of him, though he was filled with rage from her little stunt, how dare she walk in at a such vulnerable hour.

“What type of lady walks in so shamelessly when a man is bare? I take it as a sign of you not being a true maiden?”

“Is that all you got? Your pride is so bruised that you cannot think of a better insult than one of my virtue? I suppose it suits a man, still, I would take not being a maiden if I had to choose to be that or laying with my brother or uncle”

Aemonds next move was something that she did not even expect, he rose revealing every single part of him, to Aemonds surprise (y/n) was unfazed and just eyeballed him straight in the face, she did not even glance for just a minute past his neck nor was there any sign of her being uncomfortable.

“I understand that in your land you have different customs but you are in kings Landing now, Vhagar is quite peckish around this hour and you would surely be a delectable snack to her”

“You can do as such that is true, are you sure you want to face the wrath of my family? We did not name our land firebend for nothing”

(Y/n) had a way of pushing his buttons, sending him to madness, and forcing him into losing his cool was her favorite hobby, one would suppose it is befitting if you take into consideration that her family's entire legacy was to oppose the Targaryens and remind them that they would always be the thorn that bled their reputation, even going as far as to making their sigil a Phoenix with its wings spread, the animal that is known for rising amongst the ashes, the ashes of dragon fire in this situation.

Aemond relished walking in the garden upon the hour of the ghosts, it was the only time this forsaken castle was quiet, Aemond had lived almost his entire life in solitude, not a child that made friends naturally and that worsened after Driftmark, the silence brought him comfort as the breeze went through him was refreshing.

“Incoming”

A voice erupted as someone attacked him from the back, luckily Aemond was quick on his feet and ducked just in time to miss the spike of a sword only by an inch, Aemond was unharmed and forced to defend himself with his bare hands.

“You sneaky bitch”

He spat as he went into defense, he could barely see her from the darkness that surrounded him as she marched at him with full force, you could hear their grunts as they had a go at one another.

“You think every war will be in broad daylight and fair? Some bastard can attack you even when you take a piss”

She taunted him, (y/n) did not hold back nor empathized with the prince who was put in a situation that wasn’t beneficial to him whatsoever, on the contrary, she was thoroughly enjoying seeing him struggle.

Aemond had suffered from attacks ever since the incident, in this moment he was pulled back into the time he was a boy and had to come out alive after his nephews resorted to violence over Vhagar, his breath was short and sharp as his eye squinted and had started to sweat.

Aemond grew vicious, not caring for precautions or if he made some serious damage to her, in his delirium he was placed in a death or life situation and he would be damned if he did not come out of this alive and well.

(Y/n)s laughter was replaced by a loud grunt and a thud once her back was forced against the wall and Aemonds hand was by her neck, his fingers clenching her airway making it harder for her to draw a breath.

“Yield”

He commanded in a low tone at her as she struggled under his grasp, he detected the struggle in her eye, even then her pride was strong, visible since she refused to make a sound and did her best to keep her composure, she did not want to give him the satisfaction of taking her as weak.

At that moment something in him changed, instinctively his chest collided with hers, the warmth of her body was inviting and her scent of vanilla was mouthwatering, he didn't even realize how close he had come to with his nose tracing her neck.

(Y/n) grew goosebumps at the strange sensation though she was thankful that Aemond was distracted enough to loosen his grip, she remained still as she took a few breaths to relax her system and regain her strength.

“What are you doing?”

“I was imagining a blade gracing this gorgeous neck of yours”

“Strange, I would love to do the same to you”

Aemond let out a sound of pain at the sudden move of (y/n) kneeing him in his stomach, she wanted to go for the crotch still she decided it would be best to spare him this one time.

Aemond took a step back however he laughed between his agony at her stubbornness of not wanting to admit that she enjoyed the intimate encounter as much as he did, his arms hugged him to soothe his stomach from the pain while she looked down at him, her hands were shaking and for a minute she wanted to run away, hide after being caught like a little girl that was eyeing the stable boy.

“It was silly of you to ask me to yield, you have forgotten I am a Phoenix, a word of advice for next time, never lose focus”

“I never lost focus my lady, I had no weapon, so I used what was available, my charm”

“Well judging by the fact I only kneed you and did not draw my sword from the belly button to your shoulder then never do that again”

“Was it truly that repulsive or are you just so prideful that you do not crave to admit that you liked it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous”

“Am I? Sweet (y/n)”

His voice was melodic as he got closer to her once again, now it was her that was defenseless and she was back again to the wall, the eye contact between them never broke as Aemonds hands found their way to the sides of her waist, (y/n) was frozen, for once in a life she did not know what to do.

Aemond was in full control when his nose brushed against hers and (y/n) closed her eyes letting out a breath that parted her lips ever so slightly.

“Seven hells, let us not do this”

“Why? The sweetest bite comes from the forbidden fruit”

“Mayhaps, but I am no fruit, I am a warrior and you are a stuck-up, obnoxious, little prick”

“A little prick that has you blushing, it is alright, I am a gentleman, and I will not expose you if you choose to take a bite”

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jimblejamblewritings · 1 year

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The Dragon Heir | part 1.

Summary: What happens when King Viserys' only current heir is a choice between his twin daughters? The realm will not accept a woman but you have no care for what the realm thinks it won't accept.

Warnings: it's the game of thrones realm, and obviously incest comes with the Targaryen package but it still deserves a second warning

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x black!reader, Daemon Targaryen x targaryen!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: It is a reader but you have a name to fit in with the world.

“As the first century of the Targaryen dynasty came to a close, the health of the Old King, Jaehaerys, was failing. In those days, House Targaryen stood at the height of its strength with ten adult dragons under its yoke. No power could stand against it. King Jaehaerys reigned over nearly sixty years of peace and prosperity.”

You rolled your eyes at the history lesson that you had already heard a thousand times before. Biting your tongue, you looked over at your sister, Rhaenyra, and made a face. She tried her hardest not to laugh. The two of you faced your cousin once again to finish the dreadfully boring lesson.

“But tragedy claimed both of Jaeherys’ sons, leaving his succession in doubt. So, in the year one hundred and one, the Old King called the Great Council to choose an heir. Over a thousand lords made the journey to Harrenhal. Fourteen succession claims were heard but only two were considered. Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the King’s eldest descendant, and her younger cousin. Prince Viserys Targaryen, the King’s eldest male descendant.”

“Yes, yes,” Rhaenyra said as she began to stand up. She wanted to leave and ride her dragon. “And in the end they picked our father over you, Princess Rhaenys. We have heard this story plenty times before. What does it matter?”

“It matters because history is going to repeat itself.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mother is having a son. The entire castle is sure of it. Rhaenyra and I have always known where we stand. There is no point in this.”

“Do you think he’ll look like you, Laelara?” Rhaenyra asked as she put on her other riding glove.

Despite being twins, you and Rhaenyra looked nothing alike. Your mother came from a family like the Velaryons, tan and brown and black skin crowned in white hair. Rhaenyra looked exactly like your father while you were a carbon copy image of your mother.

You shrugged at your sister’s question. “The only thing’s for certain is his white hair. Rhaenyra, come back on time for dinner. And don’t go out this Friday, you know there’s a festival happening. And visit mother before anything else.”

Your sister nodded before walking away. You decided to go back to your chambers and change. While Rhaenyra was the wild one, you were more calm. You didn’t even have a dragon. You sat at your father’s council meetings and walked through the streets of King’s Landing and read in the Godswoods. Quiet was how you had always been.

You left the courtyard after seeing Rhaenyra off on her flight. There might have been nice weather but everyone was running around preparing for the festivities. Being outside with all that noise wasn’t quite ideal. You decided to be inside for the day.

Your father wouldn’t mind you using his throne room as refuge. He never cared if you sat on the Iron Throne and used the swords as a bookstand for your reading as long as you cleaned up before he held court. But you didn’t want to read today. Perhaps some sewing would be nice.

You were surprised to find the throne room occupied. Your uncle barely turned his head, nodding slightly when he saw you. You eyed him up and down.

“What are you doing here?”

“Where’s your sister and Lady Alicent. Aren’t you three joined at the hip?”

“One has gone riding and the other has duties. What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Laelara.”

“Hello, Daemon. What a—”

“Yes, what am I doing here, please keep asking that question. I was admiring the chair. It could be mine one day.”

“Father seems to be sure it’s a boy.”

“Ah but we won’t know until the child comes.”

“Do you even want the chair?” you asked him in High Valyrian. “You haven't come to court in ages.”

"Well, court is boring. I heard your father is holding a festival in my honor."

"The festival is for his heir."

“Who we don’t know is a boy yet, correct?” Daemon chuckled when you bit your tongue because he was right. “You should tell me that boy or not, your mother still has many chances to produce an heir.”

“Well, it’s not the same if I say it now.”

Daemon came down from the chair. “Give it a year or two, you’ll be quicker at the mouth. Maybe even surpass my sharpness. Maybe. I brought you and your sister something.”

He held up two necklaces. They held the same design, metal flowers with a jewel in the middle. The jewels were different. One in red and the other in yellow. You reached for the yellow one, admiring it.

“Do you know what they’re made out of?”

“Valyrian steel. Like Dark Sister,” you referenced Daemon’s sword.

He lifted the necklaces just out of reach. “Turn around.”

You let Daemon put the yellow necklace on you, handing you the other one to give to Rhaenyra when she came back. He seemed proud to give you the jewelry, claiming now you and your sister had a piece of ancestry as well. The necklace was the first bit of Valyrian steel you ever owned. Daemon made a promise — one you didn’t quite believe — to not cause any trouble before the festival.

The dress you picked was not quite right for a festival. You realized that as you picked at the long sleeves while watching your uncle in his jousting tournament. You should have picked something with short sleeves. At least your sister and your friend seemed to be enjoying themselves. Rhaenyra and Alicent both gave Daemon a wish of luck for his next match. You rolled your eyes, sinking into your seat.

Everything but the match brought you interest. If only your mother was here. But it was her due day, part of the reason the festivities were even happening. She was giving birth to your newest sibling and hopefully heir. Your parents had tried too many times to have a child. Every single one being stillborn or dying quickly. It was time for a miracle. Your attention was easily stolen by other things, including the Grand Maester talking to your father.

Your eyes squinted in curiosity as the two men walked away. A happy conclusion entered your mind. There was no way your father was going to have precious alone time with your new baby brother. You wouldn’t let him know peace if he hogged your sibling all to himself. Besides, someone had to take care of the heir until he was of age. Carefully, you trailed behind Viserys and the Grand Maester. Viserys would surely send you back to the festival if he caught you.

Even though you couldn’t be inside the room, you eavesdropped at the door once the two men had gone inside. Your face scrunched up. Childbirth sounded painful. You couldn’t believe your mother had done it five times before. You thought as you continued to listen in. It was a secret blessing to be the princess.

With your brother as the one expected to perform duty, you were free. Free to marry for love which you told your mother about many times. Both she and Viserys had pride in your ideas of marrying for love and staying at the Keep to advise your brother if he needed help in his rule. After hearing your mother, you knew you would only ever go through the pain of labor to have a child with the man you loved.

You got closer to the door when you heard the Grand Maester’s voice.

“During the childbirth, there becomes a time when a father must make an impossible choice.”

“Well, speak it.”

“To sacrifice one or to lose them both.”

Your eyes went wide. He couldn’t be suggesting what you thought he was. They must have not tried hard enough. Was your mother on all fours instead of on her back? Did they have a water bath for her to crouch down in? Were there even any other women in the room who actually had the correct parts? You knew plenty of the labor process from books written by midwives but hidden in the depths of libraries because maesters thought they knew better than a person with an actual vagina. There was more they could do. Or they could leave your mother and let the baby pass as a stillborn. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But they could also just wait. A little over half of babies in that position came out with no problem. It would take more than a few hours but everything would be just fine. The baby just got mixed up a bit, feet first instead of head. The midwife books talked plenty of how to fix it.

The voices got quiet. You breathed out in relief before hearing your mother scream. Your father and the Grand Maester looked over when you bursted into the room. You muttered no’s as your father tried to walk over to you. He couldn’t do anything as you dropped to your knees, tears streaming down your face. You felt nothing. You didn’t even care when they announced your brother, Baelon, was dead. Viserys couldn’t even put a hand on you. You walked away and locked yourself in your room, only coming out when it was time for the funeral.

You stared at the pyre that held the wrapped bodies of your mother and brother. The castle had gathered to pay respects but knew to keep the distance from your family. Viserys couldn’t even speak. He just stared, empty inside, at the funeral pyre. Your ears perked up at hearing footsteps behind you on the soft grass.

“They’re waiting for you. One of you,” Daemon whispered to you and your sister.

“I wonder if," Rhaenyra spoke. “During the few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness."

“Not even then,” you whispered.

"Your father needs you more now than he ever has," Daemon said.

Rhaenyra shook her head. “We will never be sons."

You grabbed her hand. “I can't do it.”

Rhaenyra squeezed your hand once before walking closer to the pyre. You looked away as she yelled Dracarys, not able to see the pyre burn. Daemon met your eyes, trying to tell you that it would be okay. Both of you knew his words meant nothing. You were the last to leave the funeral. You didn’t attend dinner, not wanting to be near anyone.

You ignored the emergency council meeting. It wasn’t like you were important at those anyway. In the morning, you still didn’t show. Rhaenyra took your place instead as the drink-pourer. She could tell you of anything worth importance.

She did, in fact, come back that night to report of Daemon’s insults. How he called your brother “Heir for a Day.” You found that you didn’t even care. It was hard to care when you watched them cut your mother open without any regard. Daemon only echoed the bitter thoughts in your own head.

At the same time, you understood why your father essentially banished him. He couldn’t be as reckless as he was and just say whatever came to his mouth. And he should have known that. Even if he did just earn the throne. Pushing away the only ally at court he ever had, his own brother, was not a smart move.

You were going to miss Daemon. You thought about it as you got dressed for the night. The two of you were more alike than others. The two of you were cut from the exact same cloth. Never needing to be always around each other to prove it. He stuck to Rhaenyra more, almost all the time. But you and him were the same. Aside from your sister, he was your closest confidant in King’s Landing. Although the more you thought about it, the more annoyed you grew. Daemon left without saying goodbye. You were going to give him the silent treatment when he returned.

Viserys knocked on your door, interrupting your plans for a night stroll. You opened it, anger all over your face. Your own father seemed nervous. What did he have to be nervous about? It was just you.

“I have come to a decision.”

“And I do not care,” you said, beginning to slam the door.

“Wait!” Viserys slapped his hand on the door to keep it open. “I am sorry but you have to understand the position I was in. We ne—”

“I haven’t told Rhaenyra the truth, that you made the decision to murder your wife. You dragged her down like it was nothing and cut her open without even milk of the poppy to subdue her pain. That is what a monster would do. You let the monster that calls himself Grand Maester commit murder. Did it occur to you that there was another way?”

“The Grand Maester sa—”

“Was she on all fours? In a water bath? A birthing chair? Or was she on her back the entire time? Did you ever bring in a midwife or only let a man tell you what is best? The midwives have written about it. They’ve gone to study in foreign lands. If you wash your hands and use alcohol which I doubt was in the room, and cut very carefully, you could have possibly saved them both.

“Or better. You could have doused your hands in flaxseed and other oils, stood mother up, and been ready to either catch the falling child or reach in there yourself and help guide it out. But that never crossed that man’s mind. Because those books gathered dust as if they weren’t relevant.”

“I understand. I have done something that can never be taken back.”

“I’m glad you are aware because I will never forget that and I know Rhaenyra would never forgive you if she knew. You will live with your guilt and you will take of Rhaenyra like our mother did. Now, I wish for you to leave. I’d like to waste away in peace.” You walked away, not caring that the door was still open.

“The heir cannot waste away in peace,” your father called out.

You paused. “I’m sorry?”

“I was going to go admire the dragon skull. Come with me?”

Reluctantly, you followed your father to a room near the dragon pits. The skull of the dragon Balerion was held on a platform surrounded by candles. You had no clue who lit the candles every night in case someone in the royal family wanted to visit. Your father held a hand over each of the candles, pulling back before ever being burned.

He might have been a Targaryen but he was not a Dragon. Few people were and that was mainly in the days of old. Lord Corlys’ grandfather had been a Dragon. You knew of no others since then. It wasn’t something anyone was eager to test out. Besides, one didn’t need to be a Dragon to be a dragon-rider.

Viserys looked at the skull. “He was the last living creature to have seen Old Valyria before the Doom. Its greatness and its flaws. What do you see when you look at dragons?”

“A creature people think is just a weapon.”

“Is that why you refuse to ride one? It’s not because one didn’t choose you?”

“I’ll only have a dragon when we are of the same mind. They aren’t meant to be controlled. They’re meant to be worked with, respected, cared for like we’d care for any other pet.”

“They break horses to ride them.”

“The standard is to break horses. I trained mine with patience.”

Viserys gave a short laugh. “We were missing apples for months.”

“But it worked.”

“Yes it did… You already know how man should have played with dragons. I only wish I realized you were the right decision sooner.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If we don’t mind our own histories then it will do the same to us. Targaryens must understand that to be King… or Queen.”

“Father?”

“I behaved irrationally. I understand that. My desperation stopped me from realizing the truth. Kings will not always have sons. Heirs are by blood, not by cock or cunt. You are the most fit for the job. And you, Laelara, are my daughter.”

“What about Rhaenyra? The records of who was born first were accidentally destroyed. What if she is first-born and not me?”

“We both agreed. You are the only choice. She’s a dragon-rider, a knight. And advisor. Not queen, nor does she want it. I’ve been blind wanting only sons, not even acknowledging how you’ve been learning to rule since you could hold a scroll.”

“Daemon is your heir. They all say it.”

“He was not made to wear the crown. But you have shown everyone you were. This is no trivial matter. The Iron Throne is the most dangerous seat in the world. Scarier than any dragon’s saddle.”

“I’ve never even sat in a saddle before.”

“And that is what worries me more than anything. There’s something else I must tell you. Our histories tell us that Aegon looked across the Blackwater from Dragonstone and saw a rich land ripe for capture. But ambition alone is not what drove him to conquest. It was a dream.”

You listened as your father told you about Aegon the Conqueror. The hidden fact that he was a Dreamer. The secret only passed down from ruler to heir about a dream — a song— of ice and fire. One each ruler was waiting to come true. Because each ruler got closer and closer to a terrible winter. A winter from beyond the North. A winter that would prove why a Targaryen was needed on the throne. Only one with dragon blood could defeat this terrible winter. And a Targaryen would prove themself to be the prince promised. They would unite all of Westeros and keep the world of man for the living. Viserys stood still as he looked at you.

“Prince or princess.” Viserys pulled out his dagger. “This blade is engraved with Aegon’s message. There will come a time when I give it to you. Remember this song and tell no one but your heir. And watch the ravens, make friends with them. You must protect this dream, carry it and protect it. Promise me, Laelara.”

You finally walked over to him. “Well, you’ve just ruined my entire life,” you said with a laugh. “I was always going to marry for love not politics.”

“You still can. I know what I’ve done. I will stand by you and your decisions. All of them.”

“Even if it means I never find someone?”

“You will. I cannot lie to you. We need an heir but I will not rush you. I will not choose for you.”

“Alright,” you whispered. “I still need time to mourn.”

“All the time in the world I can give you after you are recognized by the Realm.”

Viserys left without another word, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You were unsure which to process first. In the end, you chose to process your pain at the loss of your mother— the crown could wait. You only set it on the backburner when Alicent and Rhaenyra came into your chamber. They kicked out your maidens, Alicent being your maiden for the day. The two of them were more excited than you. You knew what was to follow. The throne did not come easy and solely because you were a woman.

It never surprised you. You heard the whispers, the hate. It all made you scoff. Men acted like because they had a cock it made them right to rule. They wouldn’t even be alive to rule the world if their mother so much as threw herself down the stairs before giving birth. She’d walk away with only a scratch and they wouldn’t exist. It would do well for them to remember that. But would they?

While you had a mind to match your uncle, you had the outward disposition of your father. That was why the other lords of the realm loved you. You seemed to be the perfect, demure woman. It was only because you didn’t see a need to be rude and abrasive to people who hadn’t done you wrong. It was okay when you weren’t the heir. Now, you were concerned they would see it as an excuse to usurp you. Did you make yourself an easy target?

You weren’t sure as each lord bent the knee to you. How many were lying? How many were plotting? And how many were loyal allies? You were only sure of Lord Corlys Velaryon and that wasn’t saying much. The Princess Laelara had never been a title with such heavy weight before. You tilted your head as Boremund Baratheon stood in front of you.

“I am the first-born, Lord Baratheon. There is nothing that can change that fact.”

He kneeled when you didn’t back down. The recognition went as smoothly as it could go for a woman being named heir. You turned to face your father, now bowing to him as his official heir. With the affair over, you locked yourself in your room to grieve your mother. Dying of grief was still a sickness people believed in. Losing the princess wouldn’t not benefit the Red Keep now.

You hadn’t shown up to the last few council meetings. For all intents and purposes, it was like you didn’t exist. You only heard about what happened through Rhaenyra. For half a year, you took information from your sister. From Lord Corlys and some Crabman taking over the Stepstones and trying to destroy everyone to your father having to take another wife and considering the Valeyrons young daughter to more mundane affairs.

She told you about it all. You didn’t even choose the next guard to join the Kingsguard eventually turned Queensguard since a guard had died of old age. You let Rhaenyra pick. She told you Ser Criston Cole had not only seen real battle but was fine on the eyes as well. Something told you she picked him more for her than for you.

You finally left to grab a bite to eat and take a stroll. Your mourning period would soon have to come to an end. You had a job. A pouch of fruit was given to you. You popped grapes into your mouth as you walked along the outdoor hallways of the Keep. Princess Rhaenys greeted you before sitting down on a bench. You spotted your father talking to the awfully young Laena Valaryon. Duty had to be done but you were still disgusted.

“It bothers you, does it not?”

You turned at her words. “Does what? That you’d marry your twelve year old daughter to my father. A daughter who I’m barely older than? If you’re okay with it then what do I care? It is his duty to take a new wife and strengthen the line.”

“I did not ask for a lesson in politics. I asked whether this bothers you. I understand the order of things but I’m not sure you do.”

You gave her a gentle smile. “If you mean to elicit some anger from me, I’m sorry to inform you that you have the wrong Targaryen. Shall I go find my sister?”

“I mean quite the opposite. Whether it’s to my daughter or to someone else, your father will remarry soon. His new wife will produce new heirs. One of them will be male, at least one of them. And when that boy comes of age and your father has passed, the men of the realm will expect him to be heir. Not you. Because that is the order of things.”

“That is your order. I’m free to make whatever order I choose.”

“I wish that were true, Laelara. But the men of the realm already had their opportunity to appoint a ruling queen at the Great Council and they denied it.”

“They denied you, Princess Rhaenys. You are the Queen Who Never Was. And I appreciate your concern, I truly do, but I will not inherit your title.”

“Do you think you have a choice?”

“They bent the knee to me and called me heir to the throne.”

She approached you. “Here’s a hard truth which no one else has the heart to tell you. Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.”

You handed her a grape. “But they aren’t the only ones that hold torches. I’m the one with dragons. If they want to burn the realm, I will let them. We can start by setting flame to their homes… with them in it.”

“Your father is no fool.”

“Neither am I.”

You left to finish your walk, retiring to your room to mourn some more before you had to perform duties. You shot up from your bed when your sister came into your chamber. Rhaenyra seemed more panicked than anything.

“Daemon has taken the egg that was saved for Baelon. I’m getting it back, come with me.”

“Why?”

“He listens to you. He acts like I’m some little girl to protect.”

“It’s because Daemon has never met an equal before I was born.”

“Exactly. As an equal, you are coming with me. Get up, we leave now if we’re to beat the men.”

“The men?” You asked as you got dressed at her request.

“Lord Otto and the Kingsguard.”

“Rhaenyra… How are we getting there?”

“You won’t like it.”

Rhaenyra didn’t comment on the fact that you were squeezing her middle way too tight. Not only did you not have a dragon, you had never ridden one. This was still technically not riding one. Rhaenyra was the one controlling the massive creature. You were merely an unwilling passenger. You screamed, much to your sister’s delight, as Syrax practically nosedived.

All the men ducked for a moment as she landed on the bridge. Rhaenyra turned to look at you. Her hand reached up to gently wipe the tears from your face. You saw that the two of you had arrived just in time. Daemon’s dragon, Caraxes, looked ready to burn anyone. Ungracefully, you slipped off of Syrax. Trying to ignore the way Daemon laughed at you, you approached him. Otto stopped you.

“What are you doing here, Princess?”

“I’m preventing bloodshed.”

He scoffed. “Ser Criston, please escort Princess Laelara to safety.”

“There is no need, Otto. It’s just Daemon.” You approached the man. “Uncle.”

“Niece,” he said with a smile.

“You’re holding an egg. That is new, is it not?”

“The egg is intended for the heir. Poor Baelon isn’t with us.”

“Your new wife isn’t pregnant,” you said cautiously. You didn’t even know if Daemon was actually married to her. One, he had his real wife in the Vale. Two, the woman was from a brothel. It couldn’t have been legitimate.

“But she will be and I already have a dragon. Your sister and you shared a cradle with an egg when you were born. I want my child to have the same. And what’s wrong with the best egg for the heir?”

“Then that egg shouldn’t be with you.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow. “It shouldn’t?”

“You’re occupying my home. As of last week, Viserys, formally Prince of Dragonstone, now King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm has named an heir. And if you want that throne, then kill me right now, Daemon.”

You grabbed the blade of his sword still pointed out at Otto and the other men. The Kingsguard panicked, unsheathing swords. You pointed the Valyrian steel at your neck, the blade cutting into your hand. Daemon watched as you hissed at the pain but didn’t waver.

“Drop your swords! This is a proper challenge!” You yelled at the Kingsguard, still looking your uncle in the eye. “Go ahead, Daemon, kill me.”

He tilted his head, tapping the blade against your neck. The sword dropped from his hand, clanking against the cobblestone of the bridge. He closed the small distance between the two of you and placed the egg into your hands.

“I’ll only kneel when I find you worthy of the crown.”

“Then I expect to see you at my feet the first time I sit on the throne, you reckless stupid man.”

“And if I don’t? If I pick up this sword right now and make my claim?”

“Then you’ll never know true power. I would never keep Otto as Hand of the Queen… He’s a cunt.”

Daemon kissed the top of your head before pushing you. You both laughed as you walked past Otto and hesitantly got back on your sister’s dragon. You put the egg in the cauldron of coals that the guards had carried with them before telling Rhaenyra you were ready to go, wrapping your arms around her middle again.

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie

#house of the dragon fic #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x reader #targaryen!reader

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bitchinbarzal · 1 year

Note

um no you can't leave tate and ethan like that fix it please

Tate had eventually tired herself to sleep leaving you to clean up the house waiting for Ethan to get home.

It was bearing on midnight when your phone went, you picked it up expecting it to be Ethan but it wasn’t it was Lauren, Ryan’s girlfriend.

“Hello?”

“Come get your crazy fucking husband!” She yelled down the phone.

You could hear commotion in the background and Ethan’s voice was clear.

“Is Ethan at your house?!” You exclaimed, rushing to grab your keys.

“Yeah he just showed up here shouting and yelling at Ryan”

You could hear him screaming “you broke her! how do you walk away from your own kid?!”

“I’m coming just give me ten minutes”

Luckily for you, one of Ethan’s teammates lived across the street. A rookie living with a billet family who you had ran across to and begged he sit in with your kids as you had an emergency and he was more than happy to help.

Ryan and Lauren didn’t live far away, only a few blocks away and you had definitely broken some speeding laws.

You saw Ethan on their lawn, banging on the door

“Ethan Edwards what the fuck are you doing?!” You demanded, walking up to him.

He turned to you, he looked like a crazed animal “He has to know, he has to know what he’s done to her!”

“What are You talking about?! Babe just come home… you’re not ok right now” you tried to soothe him.

He’s got tears in his eyes “She’s just a little girl, y/n”

It clicked, this was about Tate.

“If she doesn’t want me to be her dad then fine but someone has to be and he needs to take responsibility!” He’s banging on the door again and this time Ryan opens it and is looking at you.

“Get him away from our home, he’s scaring our kids”

That sentence made you want to punch him, instead Ethan did it. He hit him right in the nose, knocking him back a few steps.

As Ryan goes to punch him back you stand between them, he stops.

“Get him away from our house y/n”

Ethan’s behind you, still trying to reach him “Your kids huh? What about Tate? What did she ever do to deserve this Ryan?!”

“Edwards You don’t know what happened-“

“I don’t know?!” He seethed “She was eighteen years old and you knocked her up and forced her to keep it promised her the fucking world!”

“I was there!” He retaliated

Ethan scowled “No, I was there! I was there when she sat up for the first time, when she crawled, her first steps, her birthdays and even her first word” he rants

“Which was dada by the way” he added, just to twist the knife.

You thought back, sad.

“She needs her dad” is all Ethan said and before Ryan could reply you turned to your husband, placed your hand on his chest and said

“She has her dad”

Ethan looked at you, confused. You asked for his phone and he obliged before you clicked on his voicemail and played it out loud.

"Dad, I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean I was really mad but I've cleaned my room now, did it will you come home now? Daddy please...

"please daddy.."

Ethan looks at you, stunned and with tears in his eyes. Ryan is furious.

“Ethan, you’re her dad… blood or not that little girl is yours” you announced before turning to Ryan.

“I’m done putting her through this Ryan, I’m either going to take you to court and sue you for custody or we can skip the lawyers fees and the wasted court time and you can sign over your parental rights” you finally put your foot down

“That little girl deserves a dad who loves her and that’s not you”

Ryan grumbled but agreed, claiming that he’d sign the papers when they’d been drafted

“And i won’t have to pay child support, right?”

You only rolled your eyes and mumbled “Asshole” while walking away.

Once you’d both arrived home and relieved the rookie with a lot of praise and Ethan claiming he’d tell Lindy to let him off on drills this week you two were left alone in your home. Silent.

“You’re a piece of work Edwards” You announced, waltzing over to hug him.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what got into me”

“I do” he gave You a puzzled look and you continued “It’s a dad thing, protecting your babies”

He nodded, kissing your forehead and saying “I’m gonna go see her”

You couldn’t stop him, you knew that much.

Ethan pushed open Tate’s door and she was fast asleep. He shook her awake lightly and she groaned before opening her eyes, when she noticed who it was she sat up fast and jumped into his arms.

“Daddy!”

“Hey Tater-tot” he’s holding onto her for dear life

“You got my message? You came home?”

“I’ll always come back for you babygirl, I’m not going anywhere. I love you kiddo”

“I love you, dad”

You’d left them to their own devices and went to bed after a stressful day. In the morning you found Ethan hadn’t come to bed.

Going to wake the kids up you found him asleep on Tate’s floor, flat on the floor holding her hand while she slept.

“Yeah, i picked a good one second time round” you mumbled to yourself.

#tate’s world

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sssammich · 25 days

Text

fic: rituals ch 3

ch 1 | ch 2

read on ao3

thanks x

---

Life over at Mifflin Street has settled into a kind of controlled chaos, a haphazard sense of peace, as Emma ingratiates herself in Regina’s home. But it’s not just her home anymore, is it?

The three of them: Regina, Henry, and Emma maneuver around each other in a home that had gone through stages of emptiness, filling every nook and cranny with laughter and conversation and stories and life. All that Regina had ever wanted and more. Once, she may have thought that all the house had room for was simply for her and her son. And for a time, perhaps.

Yet as soon as Emma made her stay more permanent at the mansion, it was as if the house itself had shed its old skin and made itself new again.

Nowadays, she finds herself in lockstep with her son and his other mother as they get ready for their days, as they reconvene for dinner, as they congregate in the living room to spend what she knows are precious and finite quality time together. It is a dance that Regina enjoys stepping into more and more each day. It is a pleasant anchor in Regina’s life as she navigates her days in Storybrooke between crises and curses.

Tonight, she stands in front of her kitchen island, pan in one hand and tongs in the other, as she fills three glass containers with sauteed greens atop a bed of mashed potatoes and meatloaf. She’s not sure when the third container started making its appearance on the counter, but she knows she adjusts her groceries not too long after.

The memory flashes in her mind. She recalls the sheepish way Emma had asked if there were any other leftovers she could take with her to work for the next day. She’d picked up a plastic takeout container and put it a few inches away from the glass containers that Regina prepared for her and Henry.

Her heart ached when Emma shrugged and busied herself with something in the refrigerator just as she spoke. “Just if there’s any left. But if not, I can probably pick something up from Granny’s,” she’d said into the fridge. Regardless, Regina had heard her. On the surface, it appeared like a nonchalant request, and maybe it was. Yet Regina couldn’t help but wonder how deep and practiced this kind of request was to Emma.

Thankfully, she hadn’t yet scooped the last square of lasagna to join the one already in her glass container. So she placed it in the plastic bowl that Emma put on the counter. When she’d put the lids on all three containers and stacked them on top of each other, Emma’s cylindrical bowl right on top of Regina and Henry’s rectangle glassware, she caught the agreeable grin on Emma’s face.

“Cool, thanks.”

“You can thank me by not running my electricity bill.”

Emma’s response came out in a breathy chuckle, stepping aside so Regina could place their lunch for the next day in the fridge, and then gently closed the door.

Shaking herself back into the present, her head perks up when she hears Emma exclaim in outrage followed by Henry’s victorious cackling. A twitch of a smile threatens to break from the corner of her mouth as a result.

Just as she rinses the empty pan in the sink and places it in the dishwasher, she hears muffled footsteps start from the living room and end somewhere behind her, Emma and Henry’s voices grow louder as they enter the kitchen, claims of cheating and abhorrent rules thrown around.

“Why are you two so loud?” she asks by way of greeting once she’s shut the dishwasher and turned it on.

“He started it.”

Henry’s jaw drops, his face a contortion of confusion and betrayal.

“Mom, Emma doesn’t know the rules to gin rummy.”

“I do, too. However way you’re playing it doesn’t make sense.”

“Mom taught me!”

“Well then your Mom’s wrong.” Emma then turns to face her, her arms up in her indignation, though the glinting hint of mischief in those green eyes betrays her outrage. “So you’re the one ruining our son’s bright mind with incorrect rules. What’s next, are you gonna tell me that it’s not allowed to stack Draw 4 cards in Uno?”

Regina leans her hip against the counter and raises a brow, in a move that communicates you wanna try that again?

Emma leans forward, her biceps in full display as she rests her body on her elbows in her sleeveless t-shirt that she only wears at home. It’s a tattered thing, an ultra faded Fleetwood Mac merchandise shirt with its sleeves sheared off that Regina insists with every wash would do better as a cleaning rag than a shirt to wear. But Emma defends it for its sentimental value despite the three small holes on the back and the growing one on the side of its collar. Something about finding it in a thrift store after her release from prison and thinking it was a sign that maybe her life was turning around.

Nevertheless, even as Regina scrunches her face at its appearance, she can’t deny how little she minds when she bears witness to Emma’s comfort here. Truth be told, she’d wondered and feared that whatever comfort the other woman felt during her temporary stay would change when Emma accepted her offer to stay at the mansion. She’s glad that in the three weeks since, Emma has only grown more relaxed.

It’s an observation she keeps tucked just under her tongue, not wanting to voice anything for fear that Emma might change course at being noticed, but still willing to share if Emma shared first.

“Regina, are you even listening?”

“What’s that, dear?” finally snapping back to attention.

Emma tilts her head, and when Regina glances beside her, Henry is sporting a similar expression. Like mother, like son.

“I said, why don’t you go get cleaned up and I’ll finish up down here.”

She sighs, suddenly her body weighed down by the stresses of the day. “Alright, thank you. Come on, Henry, time for bed.”

He pouts but lets his Mom hold him by the shoulder and usher him out of the kitchen and towards the staircase. She releases his hold of him when he sprints up the stairs. Then, she glances back into the kitchen where she discovers Emma closing the glass containers with their lids, a satisfied smile on her face.

Regina kisses Henry goodnight when they reach the upstairs landing before she walks herself to her en suite to wash the day away. Once she’s cleaned herself of the stresses of her day, she slips into her silken pajamas before perching herself by her vanity where she conducts her nighttime skincare routine.

She doesn’t realize her door is opened slightly ajar until she hears a knock on the door and Emma filling in the sliver of space between the door and the jamb.

“Hey,” Emma greets, her hand resting on the door knob. Regina glances up and watches Emma through her mirror, not quite stopping her application of moisturizer.

“Something the matter?”

Emma just shakes her head, though her eyes are unreadable at this moment. Regina chalks it up to the trick of the light and Emma’s mirrored reflection. “No, I just wanted to say goodnight.”

Even with brows furrowed, she gives Emma a small smile. “Goodnight.”

When Emma doesn’t immediately depart from her spot by the door, and instead stands there slightly hunched as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth, Regina’s hands completely still and she swivels her vanity stool so she’s properly facing her.

“You look like you want to say more than goodnight,” she observes, trying to maintain some levity in her voice.

“I—yeah. Actually, I was gonna thank you for getting me some more Gatorade. I was gonna do it this weekend, but forgot. So, uh, thanks.”

Regina lets out an airy chuckle, crossing her legs at the knee and resting her elbow on said knee. “It’s hardly a bother. Henry seems to like them, too, so it just made sense.”

Emma nods. “Right. Right. Well, anyway. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Night, Emma.”

Thinking that’s the end of it, she slowly turns back to face the mirror, expecting the click of her door to sound behind her. Yet, it doesn’t come. When she glances up to watch from her mirror, Emma’s still there.

“Were you thinking of also thanking me for the Pop-Tarts?” she jokes.

“Would you wanna join me for lunch tomorrow? It’s David’s day off, so it’s just me at the station.”

She twists her vanity chair again until she’s looking directly at Emma. Her knee jerk reaction is to tease by asking if this was a date, but she bites her tongue, not wanting to let escape such a wayward fantasy. Not when Emma’s just starting to feel at home here.

“Sure,” she offers instead. “I have a meeting until noon, then I can head over after.”

Emma’s face breaks into a goofy grin, one that Regina notes she’s definitely seen on their son plenty of times before. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Anything else?” she prods, just in case.

This time, Emma shakes her head, her shoulders squared up and broad, opposite of her hunch just moments prior. “Nope,” she says, the ‘p’ popping. “Night, Regina.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

Finally, Emma shuts the door completely leaving Regina with just her reflection. She listens to the soft padding steps Emma takes to the opposite side of the hall towards her room until she hears the faint squeak of the door and an almost imperceptible click.

Regina stills for a moment before turning back to face the mirror to complete her nightly regimen. So what if she chews the corner of her mouth to stop herself from smiling as she faces herself. That’s nobody’s business but her own.

#samfic #swan queen #swen #once upon a time #regina mills #emma swan #chapter update #listen i know i just posted a different fic like fourteen seconds ago in the grand scheme of things #don't worry about that #this is a different fic #anyway enjoy #and also goodnight

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animechristi · 2 months

Text

Ranking of Kings: Hell and Demons

Offered to Jesus through Mary

Matthew 22:13 “Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’”

Spoilers?

No big spoilers this time around. I’ll refer to one scene and one character out of context, but that’s all. If this whets your appetite for the show then go ahead and watch it. If not, then still give it a try. It’s a good show that keeps you hooked. Not to mention the second opening is a banger.

Our Topic

Towards the end of the show, we’re shown a depiction of hell where the souls of the damned are eaten, regurgitated, reformed, and then eaten again ad infinitum. If this reminds you of Dante’s Inferno, you’re not alone. Also, good job! Being well-read in literature guarantees you pick up on all the inside jokes and references people make. Setting aside the early Italian renaissance – what’s important here is that Hell isn’t just a fiery time out corner. The damned aren’t just thrown into Hell. They are actively punished while in Hell and they’ll be in Hell forever. This should properly terrify us. If we think the “sweet release of death” frees us from all our problems, we may be in for a rude awakening.

The unnamed demon eating someone’s soul.

But before we get too gloomy, let’s take a step back. Ranking of Kings did a good job showing us how horrific hell is. But if this article is going to serve a purpose, we should see how someone ends up in Hell. We could say ultimately this is done by rejecting salvation through Christ. That’s the general answer. For specific answers we can look at all the various ways someone separates himself from Christ. For now, I’d like to focus only on one way: pacts with devils. If we believe the rising statistics of people claiming to worship pagan gods, then we shouldn’t be surprised that more people – knowingly or unknowingly – are entering into pacts or contracts with devils.

In Ranking of Kings things are comically straightforward. Miranjo, a young woman, has made a pact with a demon who tells her upfront “when you die, I’ll devour your soul”. We might dismiss this and say “she was desperate, and it was for the sake of the plot.” That’s fine with me. I’m not trying to prove or disprove her character. Pay attention to what the demon says. It’s simplistic, sure, but the pact made between Miranjo and the demon demonstrates truths about our spiritual warfare this side of Heaven. Contracts are a two-way street. Each party does something for or to the other. But this doesn’t mean both sides are equal. In making a pact or contract with a demon, a human places himself under that creature’s power structure in the hopes that one metaphysically higher than himself can achieve what he cannot.

Christ casting out demons

Here’s the catch. Demons cannot guarantee their side of the bargain. All their actions are confined by the permissive will of God. They serve the father of lies, so why should we believe anything they promise?

Alternatively, the Paschal Mystery of Christ is what establishes a new covenant (i.e. contract) between God and mankind. In Baptism we die and rise with Christ. This takes us out from the domain and power structure of sin and death and places us in our Heavenly Father’s house. Only by our own free choices do we find ourselves outside such divine protection.

Okay, so what?

I don’t expect many readers to have experimented with occult practices. Again, good job! But regardless of our history, I want to recommend a simple practice: repeating the renunciations made at our Baptism. It’s a small way of reminding ourselves who exactly we’ve put our trust and hope in. Let us firmly say I do to the follow.

Do you renounce Satan?

And all his works?

And all his empty show?

Do you believe in God, the Father almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth?

Do you believe in Jesus Christ, His Son, our Lord, who was born of the Virgin Mary, suffered death and was buried, rose again from the dead and is seated at the right hand of the Father?

Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting?

St. Justin Martyr, pray for us!

#catholicism #catholic anime #anime analysis #animechristi #ranking of kings #ousama ranking #hell #baptism

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ghostofthemost141 · 5 months

Text

I'll Be Back

Chapter 1

Ch.2 Ch.3. Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7. Ch.8.

About: Amelia 'Amy' Vargas had everything going for her. Her dream dog, big house, and in the honeymoon phase with her husband Alejandro Vargas. Her worst fear comes true when Alejandro is KIA during a mission. Or so she thinks. He comes back home, seemingly normal and like his usual self, but Rodolfo, who witnessed his death, is very suspicious.

Each chapter will have individual warnings

!Warnings!: Some short NSFW content

The longer I waited, the harder it was for me to stay awake. So I resorted to doing stuff around the house. There’s always something needing to be done around the place. Alejandro and I recently moved into his parent’s old ranch that had a farmhouse on the property. And while it is perfectly liveable, there’s work that needs to be done to not only the house but the barn as well. As I got up to inspect what could be done, I felt a brush up against my legs, nearly tripping me in the process.

“Oh Winston! You nearly tripped me!” I exclaimed in a joking manner.

Winston simply looked up at me and walked over to his food bowl, nonverbally demanding to be fed.

“That’s all you care about huh?” I say, walking to his food bowl.

A little snack couldn’t hurt him. Winston was a long haired, dark brown and black colored, brown eyed standard size Dachshund. Alejandro found him in the streets and brought him in, hoping he belonged to someone. No one ever claimed him and he was adjusting very well with Ale and I so we kept him. He has been in our household for a couple of months now and he is the most rotten, sassy yet sweetest dog we have ever had. Even though I mostly take care of him, Alejandro is clearly his favorite. I grabbed a small handful of dog food from the food bin and put it into his bowl, with him happily eating it up. I sighed contently, as if I was watching my own human child eat up their supper. I peered over at the fridge, knowing Alejandro’s dinner was sitting in there. I made some homemade chalupas with some homemade churros as a dessert and it was ready about two hours ago, about when he said he would be home, but he has not arrived yet. Usually that happens, but everytime it does it scares me, that even though he is done with the mission, something could still happen to him on the way home. Car wreck, a hitman mission gone right, all kinds of stuff could happen to him. It’s useless to try and call or message him since there’s hardly any signal from where his base is up here at the ranch.

“Oh Winston, I hope he is home soon.” I say.

“Oh querida..”

I turned to look and found Alejandro stepping in, shutting the door behind him.

“Ale!” I breathlessly said as I ran to him and jumped into his arms, Winston barking happily in the background.

Alejandro chuckled as he held me back tightly. Alejandro then suddenly pulled me back and crashed his lips onto mine, giving me a passionate kiss. I kissed back, feeling his tongue run on my lips. He really did miss me this time. I pulled back, out of breath, and just happy that Alejandro was home.

“I am so happy you’re home.” I say, holding him tightly.

“I am so happy to see you, Amelia. My sweet Amelia.” Alejandro said, pecking my lips.

Winston was whining and jumping on Alejandro’s legs demanding to be held.

“Little Winston.” Alejandro said as he picked him up and held him, supporting his back.

Winston immediately leaned up and gave Alejandro some kisses on his nose.

“Winston!” Alejandro laughed, making me laugh too, “that’s your mama’s job.”

I laughed as Alejandro sat Winston down, immediately facing me. He smirked at me, looking up and down at me.

“What’s that look for?” I asked as he stepped closer to me.

Alejandro pulled my long brown hair out of my ears and let it fall onto my shoulders.

“I missed you, cariña. So, so much.”

“I missed you too, cariño.” I said back, feeling Alejandro pull me in close to him.

I didn’t even realize how much I missed him until he was standing right in front of me in all of his glory. I always miss him when he goes out on missions, but this time around it was much stronger than before. Alejandro held my cheek, staring deep into my eyes.

“Go take your gear off, guapo.” I told Ale, seeing his eyes wander all over me.

“Fineee.” Alejandro whined as he turned and started stripping off his gear, hanging it on the special coat hanger he has for it next to the front door.

“Oh I also made some chalupas and some churros for dinner if you want it now.” I announced, heading into the kitchen with Winston following me.

“¡Joder, sí!”

I laughed at Alejandro’s exclamation, knowing that chalupas were indeed a good choice to cook him.

“Oh let me go change out of these clothes real quick, amar.” Alejandro announced as he made his way to our bedroom.

“‘Kay.” I say, taking his dinner out of the fridge and putting it in the microwave to heat it back up and same with the churros.

I intensely watched the chalupas and churros spin around in the microwave, with Winston on my legs begging for some scraps.

“Oh stop, your Dad will give you some you know.” I say to Winston, as he continues his begging antics.

The microwave beeps indicating the food as done.

“Your food is ready, Ale! Better come get it before Winston eats it.” I tease.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, maldito.”

I giggled hearing Alejandro curse as he came trotting into the kitchen. He wore a black t-shirt that was a little too tight for his broad shoulders and chest and some gray sweatpants. I took his food out of the microwave and handed it to Alejandro.

“I just know that is going to be better than some of the other shit I ate recently.” Alejandro commented as he sat down on the dining table.

“How so?” I ask, sitting down next to him.

“You never had an MRE?”

“Nope.”

“Well,” Alejandro smirked at me, “you’re really lucky you haven’t, cariña.”

I chuckled as Alejandro dined into his food, seeing a familiar face at his feet. I could see Alejandro shake his head at Winston, but Winston was not giving up.

“It’s your fault he begs.” I joke, bumping his shoulder.

Alejandro just rolled his eyes as he finished his plate, eventually giving in and giving Winston a piece of chicken that he happily took into his mouth, ran to his bed, and ate it like a treat while lying down.

“He’s something.” Alejandro mumbled as he got up but I stopped him.

“I got it, Ale.”

Alejandro’s deep brown eyes stared into my blue ones. They said everything they needed to say without him actually saying anything.

“Okay.” He said with a smile.

“O-Oh fuck.” I groaned into Alejandro’s neck, feeling the finish line coming close.

“You feel so nice, querida.” Alejandro moaned into my ear, as he upped his pace, “I’ve missed you.”

I dug my nails into his back and squeezed tight, feeling the intense warm feeling down in my stomach start to release.

“S-Shit, Alejandro!”

“Amelia, m-mierda!”

I felt Alejandro finish at the same time as me, both of us holding each other tight as we both hung onto our highs. Alejandro collapsed on top of me, and held me tight with his big arms and I held right back.

“I definitely missed that.”

Alejandro chuckled, giving me peppered kisses on my shoulder and neck.

“Oh trust me, I did too.” Alejandro leaned up and looked down at me with a playful smirk, rubbing his hand on my cheek.

“You thought of me during your mission?” I joke.

“You have no idea, Amy. My hand never compares to the real thing.” Alejandro looked up and down at me when he said that.

I felt my face turn instantly red as he said that. I never thought Alejandro was that naughty.

“You naughty man.” I smirk, playfully flicking him in the shoulder.

“Is it really me being naughty if I just missed you?”

He’s got a point. Alejandro then smiled at me, placed a kiss on my forehead and cleaned me up, as he always does every time we have sex. He grabbed a warm towel and wiped me clean, and to release any tension down there. He then grabbed me a clean pair of pajamas and helped me into them.

“You’re so sweet, Alejandro. I am glad to be a Vargas.”

Alejandro looked up at me as I said that. I could tell I caught him off guard with that comment but he immediately took it in stride. He leaned in and kissed my lips.

“I am happy you said yes.”

I giggled, leaning into his chest, feeling his warmth and muscles. I could just feel him smiling down at me as he always does.

“Let me get dressed and I will go get Winston and we can cuddle while watching that Christmas movie you love so much.” Alejandro suggested.

“Home Alone?”

“Yes.”

I giggled as Alejandro guessed it right. He knows me so well. I let Alejandro go as he got dressed into some boxers and some sleep shorts, staying shirtless for my own pleasure, and went and got Winston. For some reason, it was oddly attractive seeing Alejandro walk in with our dog in his arms, with his broad shoulders and perky chest.

“I love a man who loves animals.” I joke as he sat Winston down, who immediately burrowed under the covers near me.

Alejandro chuckled as he got into bed next to me, making me move Winston to the left of me so he could lean in close to me. We put the movie on and started watching it, tangled up in each other's arms and legs, happily content with the life we have together. I never want this to end.

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alyosiuscreightonward · 10 months

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Dear Diary. Talk about people who actually suck.

Recently my late husband’s dog passed away at 14 years old.

So…His kidneys shut down and he was sneezing and urinating blood all over the house. Plus he was 14 years old. It happened in a matter of days. I first thought he had lost another tooth and I went on about our lives. Then he just started to decline. He wandered around the house, just staring out and pee blood. Which leads him to start sneezing blood. I waited a day and told Childzillah we had to make that informed decision…

That’s what happened. I texted my dad on Father’s Day and wished him a happy Father’s Day but I was in a bad situation but I didn’t get into it with him.

Of course my sister had gotten those aforementioned texts just to shut the fuck up about it and leave me to grieve his passing. BUT NO!!!

My baby, my life, my heart, Harrowgate Broadchurch Cunningham Rogers has lost his pack. First was, The Emperor of Quail Village, Augustus Caesar Cunningham Rogers; he passed away due to neurological damage, he was 6 years old. Then there was, His Holiness, The Brother Levi Reddy Gudipally, he was 21. Now, CoCo Monaco Veronica Louise Ciccone Penn Ritchie Corleone The Third. However in between all this bullshit, my husband had passed away.

It was a trigger for me and I was dealing with it as best as I could. It reminded me of the days of yore when I had 8 friends die before I was 30 because of complications from AIDS/HIV. Okay. Not a fucking great time in my life. Granted my idiot sister wouldn’t fucking understand that pain since she’s 7 minutes younger than me and she’s constantly saying fucking shit like, “I’m the baby, gotta love me!!” Bitch. Please. Go ahead and have your Walmart Temper Tantrum elsewhere. No Sale here. I’m not feeding into it. “He’s picking on me!!” Fucking twat. Change your own fucking diaper.

As of this writing, I had every intention of calling my dad and telling him what happened BUT NO!!!

My sister fucking ratted me out. She put me on Front Street. She put that landfill on my dad’s property. Thanks a lot for that you stupid fucking idiot. “I’m SO going to TELL!!!”

I’ve been working on myself for years and now I’m dealing with shit better than before and the Lexipro is helping me not to feed into other people’s bull-fucking-shit. I’m of the mindset that if you tell me something, I believe in the sanctity of the confession and what you tell me, I’ll deny everything. “My name is Oliver North and I have no record collection of that memory.” I loathe telling folks that I’m dealing with my own bipolar depression, manic episodes of hypomania and suicidal ideations. I’m making progress. It’s a moment by moment thing.

Regardless of my rant, my sister will never understand how much she hurt me, again.

She’ll then claim I’m being so secretive about my life. Motherfucker, if I am able to tell you, then I would tell you and not put it in The National Enquirer or on TMZ. Nacho Bizness. Nunya Bizness. Not your story to tell. I have therapists who I confide in and not my family. They have a tendency to throw it up back in my face because they can and they will.

The love for my family is real and not just conditional. However I know that they don’t like me as a person because I’ve done shit and I’m not going to judge them but I’m going to say very clearly, that my dachshund and I WILL talk shit about them, but I’m not going to tell the world what I think because I’m irrelevant.

CoCo is going to rest in power but I will talk shit about him and not you.

Now you see why I stay over here and mind my business and I make every effort to keep myself out of your life and business. If you want me to tell you all about yourself, there’s going to be tears and they won’t be my tears. Trust and believe. I’m sure that you are not ready for my verbal and emotional abuse. I’m very good at it. My tongue is so sharp that it can and will clip the hedges. I’m going to annihilate you into a puddle of tears. Though this requires some effort on my part and I didn’t schedule that today but now, I’m going to tell her, that she can speculate about it since I’m not going to say shit to her.

Yeah I know that my dad worries about me but if it’s my shit then let me deal with my shit and don’t interject yourself in my business.

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 10 months

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Many parents suffered heartbreak after losing their children to the Moonies

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 8

February 16, 1976

Our son, [redacted], has been affiliated with one or another of Sun Myung Moon’s many “front ” groups for the past 3½ years, during which time we have had many personal experiences which convince us that Moon is engaged in personal aggrandizement and the accumulation of political power, rather than truly leading a religious movement.

Any questions we have put to responsible members of the groups, including our son, relative to the flow of cash, or group insurance, or group health plans for the members, have been met with evasions, generalizations, half-truths or lies. We have seen at first hand, serious exploitation of the rank and file group members selling flowers and the like on the streets of our cities, producing enormous money for the movement, but living at a below-subsistence level, jeopardizing their physical well-being.

Although Moon and his followers profess to aid the people of the world, we have seen no evidences of the usual charitable assistance or retraining functions. We have seen instead, the purchase of palatial estates and specially-built limousines. Other vast sums have been spent on high-cost media promotions and lecture tours nationwide by Mr. Moon.

We firmly believe Sun Myung Moon represents a serious threat, not only to the members and families of his groups, but potentially to our entire democratic society and institutions.

We urge strongly that Moon’s claim to religious tax status be thoroughly investigated by the proper government agencies and another investigation be mounted in the area of fiscal probity and responsibility.

[redacted] and I are prepared at any time to support the above through personal experiences at the Boonville, Oakland and Berkeley, California and New York, New York properties of Moon.

_____________________________________

February 13, 1976

[redacted] is the youngest of three children. She was born in 1957. She graduated from high school in June 1975 and three days later moved into the Unification Church Center at Southeast 39th & Hawthorne in Portland. She has since been transferred to the Center at [redacted]

She was a four year honor roll student with a G.P.A. for four years of 3.89. She was a member of the speech team, the honor math club, and was active in tennis, journalism, and track. During her senior year she dropped all activities and wanted to graduate early to join the MOON group. I refused to let her do this but after graduation she joined them.

The group travel around to different towns and are expected to be up sometimes twenty hours a day trying to get others to join them and to earn from $100 to $200 a day selling candy, flowers and homemade granariums. They have no service to people and all funds above their most urgent needs are sent to the MOON Headquarters.

Since last June I have seen very little of her. At Thanksgiving she came home for one day. Her father and I tried to talk to her but she withdrew and practically said nothing more to us. At Christmas she was home two nights and one day. During this time she was picked up three times by the group for a couple of hours and spent very little time with us. Christmas night her older brother asked three friends to the house to talk to her. One, a close girl friend, and the other two are bible students from an eastern bible college. One of the boys had written a college paper on Moon’s Divine Principle and could compare it to actual Bible Scriptures. They talked with her from 5:30 p.m. to 3:30 a.m. She left once and came back saying she did not wish to talk to them anymore. After family pressure they again talked to her. They were unable to penetrate the MOON brainwashing.

On January 27th, her older sister, father and I found she was in [redacted] and tried to take her out for breakfast and visit with her. She refused to leave the group and we could only see her inside the Center. After twenty minutes the group started singing “You Are My Sunshine” so loudly that we could no longer hear. She intends to spend the rest of her life there.

[redacted] has all the signs described in the many articles about the group. The exhausted glassy eyed, fixed facial smile. These remarks have been made to me by people at our home on Christmas Eve who know her well. She is not the same person.

Please help us in our endeavors for a Congressional Investigation.

_____________________________________

To all concerned,

This letter is to inform you of our son’s involvement in the Unification Church and our efforts to get him released through the organization of Citizens Engaged in Reuniting Families, Inc. (CERF)

Our son, [redacted] age 19 – honor graduate from North High School, June 1975 – recipient of two scholarships.... The youngest of our four children, member of the United Methodist Church, ex Boy Scout, member of DeMolay,....

Through the usual tactics, days at the [redacted] Center, working on their cars, weekends at “retreats”, three week “training” in Minneapolis (“to see if he really wanted to join”) – [redacted] was brainwashed and taken into the Unification Church. By using him they succeeding in getting his girl friend out of college at [redacted] in September. He then was sent off to Barrytown, New York for 40 days training. He was sure, when he left for Barrytown that he would be home for Christmas. He was not, the last day we saw him was October 16, 1975. We thank God that he does contact us occasionally. He says: “I want to come home, but can’t” — “The happiest day of my life will be when I can see all of you again” — “I miss home and all of you more than you can imagine” — “I would come home if I could, but I can’t”. Needless to say we will do anything to get him back .

We fear not only for the mental and physical well being of [redacted] but also for all the special youth who have been taken into such organizations in the world. Also, we feel such organizations are a great threat to our country and the world.

We pray daily that something can be done and we will help in any way we can.

More detailed information about our experiences with the Unification Church and [redacted] involvement in it will gladly be given upon request.

Sincerely,

[redacted]

_____________________________________

The sequence of events which occurred to my son in his involvement with the Unification Church

[redacted] was approached last summer on the steps of the New York Library, while studying for his Law Boards, by members of the Unification Church who induced him to go to their 43rd street headquarters. [redacted] visited there several times, unbeknownst to his mother and myself and later, instead of going back to school at [redacted] College, where he had two semesters to go, went to a seven day indoctrination program into the Moon Movement.

He emerged from this a totally changed person, disregarding his schoolwork to a great extent, alienating himself from his friends at school, as well as his family. He now spouted gibberish such as, “Six million Jews perished in Europe due to the fact that they were responsible for the death of Jesus Christ”. A few months ago, prior to his involvement with the Moon Movement, [redacted] would have been shocked at this association.

Upon his completion of his next to last semester at [redacted], he has quit school and entered full time into the movement. He has lost all contact with family and friends. He was kept physically from speaking to his mother when we went to Tarrytown to see him and, at present, his whereabouts are kept secret from us so that all communications have stopped.

He is a total stranger to his entire family, to his friends and to all his former beliefs and has totally withdrawn and been brainwashed by this insipid movement which is avowed to take over the U.S. as well as the rest of the world.

In Mr. Moon’s manifesto he states that his is the Messiah, that he must become the richest and most powerful man on earth, in order to control it, and can use any means whatsoever to obtain this end.

My son, we understand now, is “fund-raising” which means he is selling flowers or candy in the streets, being moved from town to town. The money he raises goes tax free to enrich Rev. Moon. All of [redacted] ambitions, hopes and aspirations for the future have been taken away from him and he is no longer master of his own destiny.

Name withheld

_____________________________________

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 1 Ken Sudo’s 120-day Training Manual and Moonie telephone fraud

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 2 Moon’s mass marriages are “a form of sex perversion”

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 3 Our son “seemed to be in a bizarre world of science fiction”

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 4 “only if she got rid of the baby and gave it up for adoption”

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 5 Moon is a man devoid of of human compassion

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 6 “One of your ancestors was a peeping Tom.”

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 7 Secret marriage, shaking and vomiting

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 9

#moonies #Broken families in the UC #Unification Church #Sun Myung Moon #parents of moonies

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invisibleraven · 2 years

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I wish you would write a fic where homeless!Reggie and Luke find out why Julie ran away from home, because I love that verse so much

A follow up to this ficlet here

Luke looked around his parent's place, making sure there was no hint of them having been there. He was sure his mom would know, she always did. But this time, as he locked the door behind him, he debated dropping the keys into the flower pot beside the door. Finally cutting that thread between the life he had now and the one he left behind.

"They won't change the locks or bar the windows and replace you. You're not Peter Pan," Julie said quietly.

"Just lost," Luke commented, but still let the keys go back onto his chain, slipped inside his pocket for safe keeping once more. Taking Julie and Reggie's hands in his, they made they way back towards LA proper, though Luke couldn't help but take one last glance backwards as they did.

Time passed, slowly and all at once. The days were growing colder, and it became harder and harder to get money. making Luke worry. He had survived winter on the streets before. Reggie had gotten really sick the year prior, so he was better prepared. But Julie... she confessed this was the first year out on her own, and she had nothing to protect her from the chill.

After that, every penny they earn that doesn't go towards food is spent assembling Julie a winter wardrobe. Plus getting a few extra things for the boys, cramming everything into a worn duffel that they never let leave their sight.

One night, they are all huddled together, wearing every layer they own, protected from the elements by a cardboard box fort that Reggie cobbled together. It's not the best shelter, but it'll do in a pinch. Luke wishes he had thought to find an oil barrel to make a fire pit though. Though the cops have been wandering the streets, picking on the other homeless in the area claiming the fires are illegal. Anything to put down the put upon.

Luke blinks his eyes open, seeing Julie creeping away, and shakes Reggie, the two of them following her, wondering where she was headed in the middle of the night without telling them.

Julie ends up a cemetery, winding her way through the graves, stopping at one under a large barren willow tree. From beneath her coat she extracts a single flower, a dahlia, and lays it on the grave before bursting into tears.

That's when Luke and Reggie rush in, pulling her into their arms, letting her soak their shoulders in tears as she weeps and sniffles, shaking from the crying and the cold. They whisper their love into her curls, assuring her that they are there, rubbing her back until finally her tears peter out.

Julie sits back, wiping at her eyes. "Thanks," she whispers, then glances back at the grave. "It's my mom's birthday today. She would have been fifty. She died early this year. And I felt... so lost and alone. Like my whole world was ending. I couldn't deal with my grief, and everyone else seemed to be able to move on. Like she was never there, like her loss from our lives was just a thing that happened. So I left."

"I am... so sorry," Luke replies, and Reggie looks so sad and remorseful, squeezing Julie's hand.

"Dahlias were her favourite, mine too" Julie sniffled. "So I stole that one. It's the best I can do for a gift."

"One day," Luke promises, "When my music makes us rich and famous, I'll buy you the biggest house there is and fill it with dahlias if you want."

"A whole field's worth," Reggie adds. "One where we can frolic with our dogs and kids."

Julie giggled at that. "I think we're a ways off from either, but never stop dreaming there carino."

Reggie grinned at her, wide and hopeful. "Do you wanna tell us about her?"

"We'd love to get to know her," Luke added.

"I-I'd like that," Julie replied, then shivered. "Though maybe not here and now, I'm freezing. You think our fort is still there and unoccupied?"

"Always a chance," Reggie said, pulling her up. Luke grabbed their bag and his guitar, shouldering both, and huddling in as they made their way past the monuments.

Their shelter was unfortunately dismantled when they arrived back, so they wandered the streets, stopping at a church that was still lit up, and had always been friendly to them. Julie entered, crossing herself, making her way to the candles, lighting one for her mother. Luke made a clumsy sign, never having been one for religion, only going on major holidays, and lit another candle next to Julie's.

Reggie looked decidedly uncomfortable, and hissed at Julie, "Are you sure it's okay if I do this? The Catholic church doesn't take kindly to Jews, lapsed though I may be."

"It's fine Reg," Julie assured him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, guiding his trembling fingers to light another candle alongside hers. Luke grinned and kissed Reggie's other cheek, then guided them to a pew, the both of them sitting quietly as Julie murmured a silent prayer.

"Mija?"

Julie's head flew up at that, looking terrified at the older Latino man standing there, looking at her as if she was a ghost. "P-papi..."

Ray Molina rushed forward, gathering a now openly weeping Julie into his arms, the two of them talking quietly in Spanish as Luke and Reggie stood back, decidedly uncomfortable. Until Julie stood, gesturing them to come forward. "Papi, these are my boyfriends, Luke and Reggie. They've been keeping me safe since I left."

"Thank you both so much," Ray said, his voice grateful. "It can't have been easy on you two, out on the streets like that. Well you are family now. Let's get you back to the house, my sister in law will have you full of food before too long. Then we can figure out the best way to move forward."

Reggie took a step forward, eager to go to a warm home, a loving family. But Luke hesitated. He had thought he would be accepted at his home, that his dreams would be supported. But if his mom couldn't love him for who he was, what he wanted, how could some stranger?

"Luke, mi vida, my mom was a musician, my dad will get it, trust me," Julie whispered, pecking a kiss to his nose. "And if you don't want to stay, you don't have to. I'll go with you, you know that."

"We both will," Reggie vowed, pressing his forehead to Luke's temple.

"Julie, I can't ask you to give up your family for me, and Reggie, not your first chance at a loving home."

"You aren't asking," Reggie said.

"We're offering," Julie added. "Let's just go for tonight, and we can decide what to do in the morning."

Luke smiled, brushing away a stay tear and let himself be lead to Ray, and then, towards home.

#filled prompts #ficlet #rukebox #peterpatterlina #julie and the phantoms

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renee-writer · 1 year

Text

Call Me Josh Chapter 3

He walks for hours. The sun sets in a pallet of orange, red, and purple. He stops to watch it, the sight blinded by his own tears. Why? Why would she do this? Get pregnant with another ‘s child and make up such a story? It has to be a story, right? There is no way that this story of hers is true? It can’t be.

The sun fully sets and he keeps walking. He feels a mixture of hurt and anger. It is an emotion that burns deep on his gut. He feels both physically and emotionally sick. His Mary, his Mary has cheated on him!

Stopping in the middle of a street he doesn’t recognize, he lifts his voice. The scream is primal. It is a sound that the gentle man has never made before. After the scream comes the tears as the weight of it all hits him. It drops him to his knees. His fists touch the sidewalk as he sobs out his hurt. Coming back to awareness of time and place takes some time. When it does, he raises on shaking legs and calls a cab to pick him up.

“Buddy, you look rough, if yah don’t mind me saying so.” The cabbie says as he enters his cab.

“I am sure I do.”

“Woman troubles?” The cabbie had seen it all, driving for close to thirty years.

“Yes, my fiancé, I believe she has cheated on me.” He swallows back the tears that want to start again.

“Tough one. I am sorry man.” They start driving after Joe gives his address. “Better to find out before marriage though.”

He is right but…”Yeah, I just really love her, you know. Would have staked everything I own on her being the one person who wouldn’t hurt me.”

The cabbie tsks. “Well maybe she hasn’t.”

Joe chokes on a bitter laugh. “She claims that she had an angel visit her and tell her she was to have a son, not mine, God’s.”

“Well that is a new one on me. I have seen some strange things driving for twenty-nine years but that isn’t something I have heard. My suggestion?”

“Yes please.”

“Pray on it, if you are a praying man.”

“Thank you, I am.” They arrive at his house.

“You’re welcome. God bless.”

He returns the blessing and pays him. He enters the house and stumbles into the bathroom for a shower. He then falls into bed. Before his eyes close in exhaustion and heartbreak, he says a quick prayer.

“God, please guide me.”

He isn’t asleep long when he starts to dream.

The man, that isn’t quite a man, stands before him. He is still in bed. He sees himself sleeping on his bed. The strange man creature starts to speak.

“Joe, I came as an answer to your prayer. Our God sent me right out. Your Mary remains an innocent. She remains true to you. She will have a child. A son, just as I was sent to tell her. You are to name him Joshua. He will be a special child, sent to answer the prayers of the world and to save them. So, take Mary as your wife and raise the child as yours. He will bless you both.”

He leaves as fast as he came. Before Joe can sort the dream out, he drifts into another.

The child is glorious. His face full of a peace unlike anything his daddy has ever seen. Joe holds the baby in his arms as his wife sleeps nearby.

“Hello Joshua.” He whispers. The baby opens his eyes, brown like the clearest amber, they look at him with knowledge beyond his ability to fathom. He knows then that he holds his Creator in his arms. “Hello Lord.”

Peace fills him, peace deeper then any he has ever felt. He knows it comes from the child he holds.

He wakes with the sun. Laying there, he feels the awe that Mary had told him he would. He also feels a relief so deep it brings tears to his eyes. These tears are of joy.

“Thank You Holy One, thank You!” he fervently prays. “Who are we, Mary and I that we would be gifted with such a Gift? Please help us raise this special child.”

He lays there a few minutes longer before raising to call Mary.

She had spent the night in restless tossing and turning. Oh she still believes. The deeper peace that the promised child would bring, it still is there. It is just, her heart aches for her Joe. He was the first and last man she will ever be in love with. She has a hard time picturing a future without him in it.

“I am sorry Mary. You should have waited to tell him until you were pregnant.” Sarah said when she returned to the dorm room, her face stained with tears. She had poured out the whole story to her.

“No, no matter what, I am glad I didn’t keep this from him.” She still feels this way. Honesty is what their relationship was built on.

“Then why didn’t he believe me.” She mumbles as she sits cross-legged and miserable on her bed.

“It is a bit difficult to swallow Mar.”

“Yes but…” Her phone rings. “Joe.”

“I will give you some privacy.” She slips out. Mary answers.

“Hi.” Her eyes close as she awaits whatever he has to say. His greeting has her eyes flinging back open.

“I believe you. Mary, he visited me too. Your angel. Then,” He fills his throat fill with the awe once again, “Joshua did. Oh Mary, he will be so incredible!”

She is crying. “Yes, he will. Oh Joe, I thought I lost you.”

They are both crying. “I am sorry baby. I should have… it was just so…”

“Yeah, it was… Joe how are we blessed enough to be his parents?”

“I don’t know but I am so glad we are. I am doubly blessed. With you as my wife and Joshua as a son.”

“We will be married?”

He laughs. It is full of joy. “Yes, as soon as we can arrange it.”

“Excellent!” They are both laughing.

“Breakfast?”

“Yes, I am suddenly hungry.”

They meet at a little café on campus. Before sitting down, they simply hold each other. “I am sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“It is alright. You do now.” They sit. “So a wedding soon?”

“Yes, I think our child should be born in wedlock.” Her smile lights up the whole of the little building.

“Our child?”

He leans across the little round table, meeting her eyes. “Step daddy or daddy, it matters not, he is ours. I was told to raise him up. It will be an honor to do so.”

“Yes.” She eats well and he wonders if she was already pregnant. The thought brings joy instead of dread. What a difference a day makes! They talk about what to say to their families.

“It would be easier for them to assume we slipped then explain. I will do whatever you want though.”

She thinks. “I think you are right. We will be raising him as ours, after all.”

“Mary, it will have to be a simple ceremony. You deserve…”

She stops him. “I am getting much more then I deserve. With you and our Joshua. A simple ceremony is perfect. Under a canopy with our families.”

“We need to talk to them and Rabbi Goldman.”

“Soon.”

He nods. “After temple this Sabbath.”

#my writing #nano 2022 #call me josh #chapter 3 #1320

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